The Bonds that Bind
by gomababe
Summary: What happens when a country's boss decides to go rogue? Chapter 3 added and rating downgraded for now since the only issue should be the language in the first chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

England sighed as he rubbed at his head. He was not at all happy with the way things were turning out right now. There were protests all over the place and the unhappy mood of his people was not helping the tiredness that remained after the economy had decided to crash and burn. He sighed again as he sank into his chair in the meeting hall, not really caring all that much about being there, but knowing he had to attend anyway. He cringed as America burst the doors open and announced his presence,

"The Hero has arrived!" he yelled happily, bounding through the room to his seat, grinning at England as he passed. Germany glared at the younger country,

"There is no need to break the doors America!" he snapped, "Now take your seat so we can get this meeting started!" It did not take long for the usual petty squabbles to start up and England buried his head in his arms in an attempt to block them out. France, however, was feeling in one of his amorous moods and decided to ruin England's plans to catch a quick nap before Germany took control once again. Just as he had placed a hand on England's shoulder to wake him, the doors burst open again. The meeting hall immediately hushed as a tall and wiry young man, wearing what appeared to be a tartan skirt stormed into the room. France looked up and raised an enquiring eyebrow at him,

"Ah, L'Eccose," he noted, "What are you doing here?" he asked. Scotland merely nodded at France, his face remaining perfectly calm until he got behind England,

"Get up you fucking twat!"he snapped visciously, smacking the younger nation over the head with his hand. France wisely chose to back off, if his 'little bunny' had done something to upset the far older country, then it was best not to get involved. England jumped up in surprise but once his initial shock had worn off he glared at his older brother,

"What in the blazes are you doing here?" he demanded, trying to remain at least semi-civil for the moment. If England's glare was acidic, it was nothing to the look Scotland shot him,

"What am I doing here?" he asked quietly. He looked to France and chuckled darkly, "The wee one wants to ken whit I'm daein' here." He turned back to England, grabbed the front of his coat and pulled the other nation to his face, "I could ask you the same thing wee one." He snarled, "Mind telling me why the fuck ye've got a load of tanks makin' their merry wee way up to ma border?" England blinked, confused,

"Tanks? At the border?" he asked, perplexed. Scotland's expression darkened further,

"Dinnae play dumb wi' me England." He snarled, "Ye ken fine well that doesnae tend tae end well." He said, his voice quiet but commanding silence from everyone else in the room all the same. England started to stutter nervously before swallowing thickly and managing to reply in a somewhat even voice,

"Scotland, put me down." He said firmly, "I have no idea what the bloody hell you're going on about and I would appreciate it if you explained exactly what you meant." Scotland scowled and dropped his brother to the floor,

"Fine ye're down." He snapped, grabbing the chair France had been sitting in and turning it around so he was straddling it. England huffed as he picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off,

"You didn't answer my question." He reminded his brother, whose expression had darkened again. It was at this point that Russia piped up happily,

"But comrade England, Scotland has already explained the situation da?" he quipped pleasantly, enjoying the dark aura that the Scotsman was giving off. Scotland glanced up at Russia,

"Thank ye Russia, I wis aboot to say the same bloody thing." Dark green eyes met with brighter green once again, still glaring daggers. England frowned, more in confusion than anything else,

"I have no idea what to say to this nonsense other than it appears to be news to me." He replied as calmly as he could manage. Scotland continued glaring at his brother,

"Oh I can assure ye that it's no nonsense." He said quietly. He motioned over to Prussia, who was sitting lazily in the corner of the room playing with the remote for the large TV the nations used in case of an emergency,

"Gil, the remote please." He said, indicating that it was not in any way a request. The ex-nation complied immediately, sliding the device across the conference table. Scotland snatched it up and turned the TV on, turning it to BBC news 24:

"_And now to the breaking news story that just came in a few moments ago." _ The reporter droned, _"The Prime Minister has asked the MOD to send in military troops to quell the violent protests that have been taking place in Edinburgh and Glasgow during the past week. We have just received word that the Minister of Defence has agreed to send at least two battalions to the Scottish cities in order to take control of the situation..." _ The room was deathly quiet when Scotland turned the TV to mute and turned to England once again. The younger nation stared at the TV in shock,

"But..." he started, "Bloody hell, they can't do that!" he yelled, "It goes completely against the Acts of Union!" Scotland raised a rather large eyebrow at England's outburst,

"So this really is news to ye then?" he asked quietly. England glared at his brother,

"That's what I've been telling you, you bloody idiot!" England snapped, bringing out his mobile phone, "I might as well call the Prime Minister to ask what the bloody hell he's playing at." He groused, punching in the number a little more viciously than normal. The room remained quiet, interested in seeing what was going to happen now. It was not often than Nations disagreed with their bosses like this, and it was always pretty interesting to watch when it did, it was rather like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. Scotland continued scowling as England waited on someone picking up the phone as France laid a cautious hand on his shoulder,

"My dear Eccose," he whispered, "Surely this is all just some misunderstanding." Scotland's scowl softened as he looked to France and gently batted the hand off his shoulder,

"Well if it is, I'm expectin' a full bloody apology and a resignation at the very least." He growled. His attention was returned to his brother, who had evidently managed to get through at long last;

"Hello, this is Sir Kirkland speaking," he said formally, "I'd like to have a word with the Prime Minister if he's available." He went quiet as the person on the other end started speaking. His face contorted into a scowl after a moment, "Well I'd say my call ranked a little higher than some budget reports..." the scowl deepened, "Now listen here!" he snapped, "This is not a request, young lady. I demand to speak to the Prime Minister, or at least his Deputy!" He pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it in a mixture of amazement and absolute disgust. Scotland's eyebrows practically disappeared into his fringe, sending England a questioning look. The younger country, huffed as he flipped the phone closed,

"The little ingrate hung up on me." He explained after a moment. He seemed to think for a moment while Scotland voiced his great displeasure,

"The bloody fuckin' idiot!" he yelled, "When I get ma hands on him..." England cut him off with a well placed look,

"Scotland, please, that will not help matters." He sighed and looked at the phone with a dawning look of realisation, "Well, if that's how the little fascist wants to play it..." he muttered, punching in another number and putting the speakerphone on and placing the mobile on the conference table. America looked on in confusion,

"England, you can't go any higher than your boss, so who are you calling?" he asked. Scotland seemed to get exactly what his brother was doing,

"England, I hate tae admit, but ye're a genius." He said, a smirk lighting up his face. England rolled his eyes somewhat dismissively and was about to reply when the phone was picked up on the other end:

"Hello, this is the Royal Communications Office." A voice addressed smartly. England smiled as he replied,

"Ah, hello there Steven," England greeted, "It's Arthur here. May I ask if Her Majesty is at home?" he asked. The voice on the other end replied happily,

"Oh Sir Kirkland!" it exclaimed, "I was wondering when you or your brother would call through." It chuckled, "Give me a moment while I patch you through, Her Highness has been expecting your call." England raised an eyebrow at that but Scotland leaned back in his seat, finally seeming to relax. After a few moments of silence a small but commanding voice could be heard on the other end of the phone,

"Arthur," it exclaimed, "I was wondering when you'd hear about the news." England smiled but was a little confused,

"Ma'am?" he enquired, making sure that his Queen was on the same page he was. The Queen chuckled a little,

"The news sir Kirkland, the breaking report that's just interrupted all BBC channels at the moment." She explained. England smiled again as he nodded,

"Ah that news, I just wanted to make sure we were talking about the same thing." He explained, "And yes I did hear about it eventually... through my brother barging into the middle of the world conference, demanding to know why his border was being invaded all of a sudden." The Queen sounded vaguely surprised,

"Oh so Sir Stewart is there as well is he?" she asked. Scotland sat up more smartly,

"Aye yer Majesty." He replied. The Queen went quiet for a moment before replying,

"My most sincere apologies for this, the House of Lords is rather up in arms about it, not to mention the Scottish Parliament. "

"Yeah I'll bet." Scotland muttered quietly enough that it wouldn't be picked up by the speaker phone. The Queen continued,

"I am currently trying my best to get through to the Prime Minister to try and resolve the issue, but it seems my calls are being disregarded." Scotland and England shared a shocked look,

"Ma'am?" England asked, "how long have you been trying to contact the Prime Minister?" he asked, dreading the answer he knew he was going to get. The Queen snorted,

"Since the moment the news broke Sir Kirkland." She replied. England groaned. Scotland scowled but then seemed to think of something. He stood up and leaned on the conference table,

"Yer Majesty, with all due respect, if the Prime Minister is ignoring your summons then I really don't feel I have ony choice." He bit his lip nervously, while England looked on in curisousity, "With yer permission I'd like to assemble the Black Watch at the Scottish border to engage the troops marching up to invade my land." The Queen replied immediately,

"Permission most expressly granted Sir Stewart. What the Prime Minister is doing is nothing short of invasion." She agreed, "You also have my permission to assemble what regiments you have left under your own command to join them under the banner of the Scottish Royal Standard." She added. Scotland looked taken aback by the suggestion. France stood as well, looking rather determined for once,

"If I may make a suggestion." He said, looking to Scotland. Scotland looked back at his best friend,

"I believe, Ma'am, that Mr Bonnefoy would like to speak with you." He sent his ally a confused look as the Queen agreed to speak with the French nation,

"Your Royal Highness, I would also like to offer my support to Eccose." He said, "If I can convince my President to honour the Alliance that we 'ave shared for many centuries I would like your permission to send what troops I can offer." Everyone stared at France, utterly amazed that he would even want to get involved. The Queen seemed to think this over for a few moments,

"If you can convince your President Monsieur Bonnefoy, then you have my permission to send a small battalion." She agreed, "As fierce as the Black Watch is, it may not be quite enough if the supposed leader of Parliament is sending two whole battalions of very well trained British soldiers." France grinned as he bowed to the phone,

"Then I shall contact 'im straight away. Merci your majesty." He said as he bowed again and swept off out of the room, taking his phone out of his pocket. England, Scotland and the rest of the nations of the world stared after him, too shocked to even comment. England's attention was brought back to the matter at hand as the Queen addressed him,

"Arthur? I do hope that you're alright with this, but we are facing a rather unprecedented situation." England smiled bitterly and shook his head,

"I've survived worse." He reminded his monarch, "I will continue trying to get through to The Prime Minister for now and if I cannot get through to him before this all kicks off then we'll just have to try something else." The Queen sighed,

"Thank you Arthur," she said, sounding wearied, "I had best attend to the matter at hand myself; no doubt I've got a lot of MPs that are clamouring for me to forcibly dissolve Parliament after this fiasco." England bowed to the phone,

"Of course Ma'am, I do wish you the best of luck." There was a quiet laugh on the other end,

"It's not me that needs it Sir Kirkland." She reminded her nation, "Good day to you." She added as she hung up. England sighed as he picked up the mobile phone again and terminated the connection on his end; he was not looking forward to this one bit. America, who had amazingly remained quiet during the whole conversation decided now would be a good time to speak up,

"Dude, the Queen can forcibly dissolve Parliament?" he asked, not entirely sure whether to be amazed or disgusted. The British Commonwealth nations that were present glared at him while England laughed tiredly,

"Oh yes, it's not something we've had to use in Britain before, but the Queen does reserve certain powers in case something like," he waved a hand at the TV '... this happens." He finished lamely. Scotland had continued to stare at the door that France had practically flounced out of before shaking his head and turning to America,

"I ken ye dinnae like the idea of monarchy son, but ye have to admit, it's come in useful right about now." America sighed, still not sure what to make of the whole thing as Italy spoke up,

"Ve, I'm confused," he said, "If this whole thing is just to do with your boss, then why is big brother France getting involved?" he asked. Scotland shook his head, going back to staring at the door to the conference room uncertainly as England answered for him,

"Probably wants to honour the 'Auld Alliance'." He snorted, "Bloody sentimental git." He added. Scotland shook his head again,

"Honest to God, he chooses now?" he asked with a sigh "No' that I'm complainin' like but..." he trailed off as France swept back into the room, looking rather pleased with himself,

"It is all settled then." He said, taking his seat back and looking up at Scotland, "The French President 'as agreed to send a small section of troops to 'elp." He tossed the hair out of his face as he continued, "I of course will be joining them..." at this point Scotland cut the blonde off,

"Oh no ye're not." He told him firmly, "It's bad enough ye want to be involved in the first place Francis, but I'm no haein' ye come over over a silly wee skirmish like this." France chuckled as he got up and hugged the Scottish nation,

"But _mon amour_, what the Prime Minister 'as done is basically an act of war non?" Scotland sighed as he debated whether it was worth shoving the other nation away, decided it wasn't and leaned into the hug instead,

"Aye, I guess ye're right." He muttered into the French man's coat. France smiled softly as England mimed being sick. When America sent him a questioning look, not wanting to interrupt the two hugging nations, England sighed and decided to do it for him,

"The 'Auld Alliance'", he said, "Europe's longest running and soppiest love affair." He scowled at the two nations as Scotland chuckled, lifting his head off France's chest to look at him,

"Jealousy doesnae suit ye England." He quipped, earning him a hot glare from the younger nation,

"I am not jealous!" he snapped, but before anyone else could comment Germany had decided to take charge once more,

"All right, this meeting is adjourned for today." He stated, "We're not going to get anything done if half of you are not even going to be here for the rest of the day." The German man sighed as he started to gather his notes, muttering to himself in German while Italy followed after him worriedly. The rest of the nations all looked first at England, Scotland and France, at Germany then finally at each other, shrugged and started to file out of the conference room, muttering amongst themselves. This was going to be an interesting week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

Scotland sighed as he adjusted the hat currently perched on his head. He and France had both travelled back to Scotland's house via the routes countries often used to visit with one another and had already told the First Minister about the permission the Queen herself had given to Scotland. Things had quickly escalated from there, with Westminster insisting that the Scottish Parliament was well out of order and demanding them to tell the Black Watch to stand down. To which Scotland had replied with a rather hearty "fuck off". France watched his best friend pace around the room,

"L'Eccose, everything will be fine." He cooed in assurance, trying to calm his best friend down. Scotland stopped pacing and looked to Francis. He sighed again,

"I'm just a wee bit worried is all France." He admitted, "Now the bigwigs in London ken whit we're daein' they'll probably send up even mair troops." The red-head then resumed his pacing as he tried to work out how his troops and France's battalion were going to stand against the majority of the British Army. France snorted,

"I am more concerned about the fact that the Prime Minister has convinced the Army to attack your border." He mused, swilling the wine in his glass thoughtfully, "I thought the British Armed forces swore allegiance to the Queen." Scotland chuckled dryly,

"Aye, they do, but whitever the PM's told them has got at least the ones at the top convinced this is a guid idea." He stopped pacing and leaned on the windowsill instead, "Been a guid long while since we've had tae fight like this." He mused, "I'm gettin' far too auld fer it." France joined him and gazed at his best friend. He did indeed look rather wearied,

"'Opefully we can get this sorted out with minimal casualties." He said, "The last either of you need is to spend the next few centuries at each other's throats again." Scotland shook his head,

"That'll no happen now," he replied tiredly, "fer once the wee one is on my side, but how he plans to help..." he trailed off, glancing at the clock on the far wall. They still had another hour at least before they had to move out. France smiled,

"I am sure he 'as a plan of sorts. After all, this is Angleterre we are talking about."

"Anyone have any bright ideas?" England asked as he looked at the "riot" behind held back from Downing Street. He had been trying to get to the front door of Number 10 for the last hour and had ended up getting caught in the police kettle along with the protestors. Wales looked at his brother impassively,

"Told you we should have tried going in the window at the back." He muttered, leaning against a lamp post. England glared at him,

"And end up thrown into a jail cell? No thanks." Wales raised an eyebrow at that,

"The way this is going we're going to end up in one anyway." He pointed out. England hummed a little in irritation at that,

"Well, we will if this lot decide to kick off." He replied, "Which doesn't look as though it'll be happening any time soon." He added, sounding almost disappointed. Ireland laughed,

"Is that that old Anarchist coming out in ye?" he asked, "Well if it's a riot ye want..." the older nation quickly scaled the nearest lamppost and pulled a small megaphone out of his pocket. England stared at him for a moment,

"Where the hell did he get that and what the bloody hell is he playing at?" he asked his twin. Wales looked up at Ireland and shrugged,

"Probably going to show this lot what a proper protest should be like more than likely." England groaned,

"Great so now we are going to end up in a jail cell." He muttered as Ireland put the megaphone on, cleared his throat and started to speak,

"Can I ask why the Armed Forces are attending a peaceful protest against Westminster's actions?" he shouted, "Yes, I can see ye fuckers from up here, don't be shy; show the nice protestors that ye're there!" that had caught the crowd's attention. A murmur swept through the kettle. What were the Armed Forces doing here? This was a peaceful protest. Weren't the riot police enough to stop things kicking off? Evidently it had caught the army's attention as well since one of the majors grabbed a megaphone himself to reply,

"We're merely here as a presence to prevent terrorist activity." He replied, "So long as everyone remains calm and no one tries anything then we won't be needed. " Ireland laughed,

"Aww, isn't that cute? He still thinks it's the eighties. God bless his little heart!" he called out, causing a brief laugh to ripple through the older members of the kettle. Most of the younger people looked on in confusion, not quite getting the joke. Ireland continued, "Well since you're here, mind telling me why the hell ye're listening to a PM that won't even acknowledge the Queen herself?" he called. That caught the crowd's attention, a whisper ran through it; none of them had heard about that since the PM had managed to keep it quiet. England smirked a little; this was going to get interesting, the Queen was still liked well enough by most people it seemed. England looked to Wales, gave his twin brother a devilish smirk and started humming 'God Save the Queen' loudly enough so the people next to him could hear it. Soon enough the entire kettle was singing the British national anthem with pride, causing the riot police and army soldiers to look on in confusion.

Scotland couldn't help but grin at the sight that met him and his troops in one small village on the Scottish border. The might of the British Army was being held up by a load of older men and women armed with nothing more than kitchen utensils. France chuckled as he strode up beside his best friend,

"Your people still 'ave a very strong sense of national pride, oui?" Scotland mirrored the laugh,

"Of course they do, why d'ye think I stayed an independent country fer so long?" He motioned to the piper behind him, who adjusted his pipes and started to play 'Flower of Scotland' to alert the British Army to their presence. The villagers and army looked up to see both the St Andrew's Cross and the French flag fluttering amongst a sizeable set of troops. Scotland adjusted his Glengarry and strode forward,

"I dinnae really want tae start anything, but I suggest you lot move back on south afore we make ye!" He called, "Ye have no right to be here!" One of the generals {who was being held back by an older woman with a very heavy looking rolling pin} called back,

"And on who's orders would that be?" he asked, "Last I heard Scottish forces were considered to be part of the _British_ Armed Forces!" Scotland snorted,

"By the Queen of the United Kingdom herself!" he replied, "The same one you lot are supposed tae be sworn tae oath by!" he was starting to get annoyed now, though he noted that the villagers' glares had intensified. The general snorted,

"I very much doubt that!" he called, "The Home Secretary told me that the Queen was fine with sending us up to help with the protests!" Scotland shook his head with a sigh, when France took over,

"You 'ave been lied to!" he called, "Why would the Queen send a full two battalions against 'er own subjects?" he asked, "Surely the Scottish riot police can manage themselves?" The general snorted again, this time with disgust,

"The Home secretary has no reason to lie about something like this you stupid frog! As for why we're being sent up, the riot police are obviously having problems so why not send in the Army as backup?" France bristled, was this man really that blind? Scotland muttered something about 'stupid, fucking eejits' before gathering himself and trying again,

"Then why not use Scottish forces? As ye can plainly see, they still exist." He called, "Now I'm gonnae ask ye nicely one last time. Leave or we're gonnae make ye!" The general glared up at them and shouted to his troops,

"Weapons at the ready!" he barked. His men complied immediately, drawing their guns, though some were clearly reluctant to do so. Scotland swore angrily and shouted to the villagers instead,

"Get oot of here! This is gonnae get nasty!" Most of them were well ahead of their country and were already making their way to their cars and homes, but others had to be dragged along by their friends and relatives, shouting and swearing at the British forces the entire time. When the square was empty of civilians Scotland turned to his troops instead,

"Looks like they're gonnae have tae learn the hard way lads... and lassies." He told them, "At arms!" he commanded. He glanced over to France, who nodded and commanded the same thing of his own men and women in French. The battle for Scotland's quasi-independence was about to begin.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry this took so long, Christmas kind of got in the way and the snow inspired so many cute ficlets that I couldn't help myself. Reviews are very much appreciated.

**Chapter 3**

To say that things were going badly was the understatement of the century. England sighed as he paced around the cells he and Wales had been bundled into, waiting impatiently for their older brother to come back from his questioning session. The three nations were understandably pissed off, why were they not being listened to? Wales snorted as he looked up from petting the little dragon that was curled up on his lap,

"Will you stop with the pacing around already? You're making me dizzy jus' watching you." He drawled, "I'm sure Ireland's fine." England stopped and glared at his twin,

"No I bloody well will not stop." He snapped, "This whole fiasco is an outrage and I have had quite enough of it." He then resumed his pacing. Oh what wouldn't he give to have a couple of pieces of chalk and one of his spell books right about now. Watching the police deal with a couple of trolls or hags would definitely brighten up his day. Hell, even if he could just summon up a poltergeist it would be infinitely more entertaining than waiting for Ireland's interrogation to be over with. He finally stopped pacing when Ireland was shoved into the cell by an officer,

"We'll let you think about what you want to tell us for a bit shall we?" the officer sneered as he slammed the door shut. Ireland gave the thing a one fingered salute before he settled down on the bed,

"Can't handle what wasn't even a proper riot." He snorted, "Honestly with the way I was being talked to you'd think I'd blown the Piccadilly Line up." England gave an amused snuff,

"Well to be fair, your lot _were_ the most serious terror threat to the UK until quite recently." He reminded his brother. Ireland chuckled,

"I guess we were boyo, but I've calmed down a lot since then." He looked up at the door, "Seriously though, this has put a proper damper on things." England sighed,

"It most certainly has." He agreed, "Still, it could be worse..."

...

Scotland swore as he sat down. Things were not going nearly as well as he'd hoped. Oh sure, he and France had successfully pushed back the battalion that they'd come across, but both had suffered quite a lot more casualties than the British forces had,

"I swear to God that the wee one had better be sorting things oot doon there." He growled as he poured himself a glass of whisky and promptly downed it in one go. France didn't bother looking up from the table,

"These things will take time _mon ami._" He reminded the Scot, "The best we can do for now is to 'old off the invasive forces until the 'eads of you MOD get told the truth." Scotland scowled at the wall ahead of him, but then sighed, relenting,

"Ye're right o' course. I'm just frustrated is all. I shouldnae have tae defend ma ain border against British forces seein' as I'm pretty much the same bloody country." France nodded wearily,

"The joys of 'aving to share the responsibility oui?" he noted. Scotland sent the French nation a small smile,

"Fer once I'm hopin' the wee one is a'right. Wi' the way things are goin' I'll be surprised if he's been allowed anywhaur near Downing Street or Buckingham Palace." France chuckled,

"You would be surprised at how... inventive your brother can be when 'e really puts 'is mind to it." Scotland laughed along with him,

"Aye, not tae mention how bloody stubborn he can get. If we thought he wis bein' hard-headed during the Blitz then I'm guessin' we haven't seen anythin' yet."

...

England watched his brother nervously,

"Daffyd, are you sure someone won't notice the fact that you're using a bloody _dragon_ to melt the bars off the window?" he asked. Wales merely grinned at his twin,

"D'you want to get out of here to get to the Palace or not?" he asked, "Best way out is the window, and since Meredith is here we might as well make use of her abilities right?" England nodded slowly wile Ireland laughed,

"What do you know the boyo has a head on his shoulders." He quipped, earning him a glare from his younger brother, while England watched the door nervously, straining to hear if a guard was approaching over the sound of Wales' dragon using her fiery breath on the window bars. It sounded vaguely like a blowtorch,

"Can you hurry it up before one of the guards or officers hears that thing?" he hissed. Ireland looped an arm around England's shoulder,

"Arthur, relax. We've got this covered." He told him, "Either way we're gettin' out of here so don't panic so much alright?"

"I am not panicking!" England snapped,

"Yes you are." Ireland replied.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!" The two of them were so busy bickering that neither of them noticed that Wales' dragon had finished her job until she bit England on the shin,

"OW! What the bloody hell was that for?" England snapped, looking over to Wales, who simply rolled his eyes,

"If you're both done being childish and attracting unwanted attention..." he said, motioning to the door, which had by now opened and had an officer standing in it, wondering what all the commotion was about.

"Oh bloody hell." England groaned as the officer finally worked out what was going on and reached for his radio. Ireland was faster and swiftly kicked the device out of the man's hand before he could call for backup,

"Sorry boyo, but we've got a country to save." He quipped as he landed a punch in the officer's face. He turned to his brothers,

"You two get going before backup turns up." He told them sharply. England hesitated for just a moment before nodding and dragging his brother towards the window and squeezing through it,

"Good luck!" he called just before he disappeared, taking off running across the yard. Wales gave his brother a short salute before he too disappeared, following after his twin. Ireland turned his attention back to the door of the cell, which by now had about half the guards stood in it,

"Well lookie here, more witnesses to our astounding escape. Sorry lads, it's been nice knowin' ye!" he called as he dashed to the window and jumped out of it just before the nearest officer could fire his taser. Ireland laughed as he heard the shouting and swearing as he ran to a nearby shed and poked his head around the door. He felt a tug at his jeans and turned to see one of his leprechauns standing there, a wicked grin on his little face,

"Well, ye certainly showed them up, but it won't stop them chasin' ye down." He noted. Ireland nodded,

"And that's where you come in my little friend." He replied, mirroring the little man's smile, "D'you think you can distract them for long enough?" he asked. The leprechaun grinned and laughed,

"O' course we can boyo, you just get out of here." Ireland grinned at the leprechaun, shook his hand and took off running again, trying to work out where his brothers could have gone, while the leprechaun jumped out in front of the officers who had just rounded the corner,

"Top o' the mornin' to ye lads. What say ye to a little game?"

...

England finally slowed to a stop when he realised that he and Wales were not being followed. He leaned against a wall to catch his breath,

"That was a little too close for comfort." He muttered. Wales leaned with his back against the wall, Meredith snaked around his shoulders,

"Well you and Ireland would start a bickering session." He drawled, "Good thing Seamus has a quicker mind than you." England shot his twin a glare,

"Oh yes, very quick, I can't argue with that." He replied, "But now we've probably got Scotland Yard on our backs as well!" he snapped. Wales shrugged,

"Can't be helped for now. It'll all get smoothed over once we get a few things straightened out with Parliament though." Wales replied,

"If it ever gets straightened out at this rate." England muttered. He jumped when he heard a voice behind him,

"I believe we may be able to help with that." Came a well accented voice. England turned around only to come face to face with one very familiar face and several not so familiar ones. He smiled as he shook hands with the man he recognised,

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you lot." England sighed in relief, "I do hope it's not just me you're helping though." He said. The leader smiled,

"Oh no, we've got operatives heading up to the Scottish border to liase with your older brother and France as we speak." The man replied, "In the meantime I do believe that the Queen is awaiting your arrival at the head office." England nodded as he and Wales followed the man and his agents, both of them feeling much happier about the whole situation.

...

France frowned as one of his soldiers came into the little bar, wringing his hands nervously,

"Monsieur Bonnefoy, il y a un monsieur étrange qui veut parler t'et à monsieur Stewart." He said. France blinked a bit, looking to Scotland, who shrugged in confusion,

"Très bien, laissez-le dedans." He sighed. The French man did not want anything else to deal with on top of the British forces, but he supposed he had no choice. Scotland immediately straightened up as a young man walked into the bar, a large grin on his face,

"Hullo there!" he greeted enthusiastically, "Now I understand you lot have a little bit of a problem with a runaway government." Scotland blinked a bit in confusion at first, but his face split into a massive grin as he realised just who he was talking to,

"I've got to admit that it's a surprise to see you, but am I ever glad tae do so." France merely looked on in confusion,

"Angus, may I ask who this gentleman is?" Scotland turned to France with a great big grin on his face,

"If ye dinnae recognise him the noo, no doubt ye will when we get outside." He practically sang, pulling France out of his seat and taking him to the door. The young man following behind them both, looking amused.

...

A/N: Who are these mystery people exactly, and what do they have to do with the current crisis? The story's taking a definite twist here, one that even I never expected it to take. Sorry for the lack of Scotland, there's more of him in the next chapter.


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